


Drink

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Dom/sub, Multi, Watersports, piss drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 03:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4332354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(A work I won't finish but am posting for organizational purposes.)</p><p>It starts when they finish a hunt up in New York City. Dean hates hunting in big cities, the Impala constantly threatened by impatient and inattentive drivers, but they were the first hunters to catch wind of it. At Castiel’s insistence and due to their still limited number of contacts, Dean sucked it up and off the three of them went. Now they’re stuck in a traffic jam trying to leave New York, and throughout everything that happened both during the hunt and the subsequent aftermath it just didn’t register to Sam until now. He has to piss. Extremely bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drink

**Author's Note:**

> I've left the SPN fandom, and this is never going to be finished. But I made it to around 10k, so I feel like I should post it to my archive.

It starts when they finish a hunt up in New York City. Dean hates hunting in big cities, the Impala constantly threatened by impatient and inattentive drivers, but they were the first hunters to catch wind of it. At Castiel's insistence and due to their still limited number of contacts, Dean sucked it up and off the three of them went. Now they're stuck in a traffic jam trying to leave New York, and throughout everything that happened both during the hunt and the subsequent aftermath it just didn't register to Sam until now. He has to piss. Extremely bad. 

As he adjusts his legs another time, Dean turns sharply to him. " _Sam."_

"How much longer do you think it'll be before you can get out of here?" It doesn't look like anytime soon; they've been inching down the road at a snail's pace for a while now. But maybe Dean can figure something impossible out.

"Cas, find Sam a bottle. Unless you wanna do it on the side of the road, get your exhibition on." Dean wiggles his eyebrows.

Sam grimaces before turning to the backseat, watching as Castiel reaches under the seat benches in search of an empty bottle. When he shines an apologetic look Sam's way, Sam grits his teeth and goes back to looking out the dash window. He can hold it. Hopefully. He doesn't want to piss on the side of a crowded road.

A few more minutes pass, Sam trying to find a comfortable position that doesn't irritate his bladder too much. Dean is amused, and Castiel is quiet. Sam uncrosses his legs and recrosses them, his right leg now the top one instead of his left. His bladder is screaming at him. They've moved a bit, but there's no way they're making it to a rest stop or just empty road. Sam's gonna have to whip it out and hope he doesn't scandalize anybody else behind the Impala. 

Just as Sam makes as much peace as he can with his decision, Castiel leans forward and asks Sam to join him in the backseat. Both Sam and Dean turn to look at him.

"Cas, what could you possibly have thought of that could help? I'm, uh, just gonna go. There's no point trying to wait anymore. We're stuck here."

Castiel raises an eyebrow. "I'm aware of that. You don't want to urinate on the side of the road where others can watch you. I've thought of another solution, if you're amendable."

"Sam's not pissing in the car, Cas. You couldn't find a bottle."

"No. But the urine needs somewhere to go, and I have somewhere it can." 

Castiel starts to look nervously worried, and Sam shoots a glance at Dean. Dean seems to be just as lost as Sam.

When Castiel continues, it's quiet. "Sam could relief himself into my mouth."

Dean coughs and sputters. Sam can admit his jaw maybe drops a tiny bit. That's...not something he would have thought of in a million years, and for Castiel to suggest it is weird. It's definitely not a normal response to hearing your friend needs to go while stuck in a car. Sam swallows, and he can't look at Castiel. His eyes dart anywhere but at the man. 

"Uh, thanks for the offer, Cas, but that's...really unnecessary. And super unhygienic, man. I know you know what piss is."

Castiel immediately shifts into irritation. "I am well aware of what urine is, Sam. It is human waste leaving the body.  _However_ , given your diet and your usual water intake, I believe I am safe to assume drinking your urine would not cause me any harm. Even not counting that, once will not hurt me."

Dean shakes his head wildly. "Cas, that's gross that you even thought about it that hard. I–"

"My offer will remain, no matter what you try to say to sway me away from it. It is Sam's decision to take me up on it."

Dean turns to his brother for help, and Sam shrugs. He feels wrong, a freak, for even entertaining Castiel's offer. But if he accepts it, he doesn't have to leave the car, and the only ones seeing him are Castiel and Dean. Dean's seen him piss a million times, and if the last few minutes are anything to go by, Castiel really doesn't care. And it was an offer; it's not like Sam is forcing Castiel to do it. Sam swallows, glances out his window. He'd be in plain sight of everyone. 

It's a tense few minutes while Dean and Castiel wait for Sam to make his move. Sam is surprised Dean's not saying anything; he can feel his brother's judgement coming off in waves. Castiel is patient, his eyes trained on Sam. It makes Sam even more nervous about a decision, but once he accidentally jostles his bladder in nervous movement, the decision is made for him. He's probably going to be obscene relieving himself.

Sam gingerly climbs out of his seat after he opens the Impala's door. He opens the backseat one and joins Castiel. Seeing his decision, Castiel offers him a smile before putting his hands on Sam's legs. The former angel guides Sam how he wants him, and once he's finished he asks Sam to undo his jeans. Dean's rigid in his seat, head forward and fingers tight on the wheel. Sam swallows as he undoes his button and then his zipper. He hesitates pulling himself out, constantly having to remind himself mentally that Castiel offered to do this, Castiel is okay with this. 

Though he's expecting it, Sam jumps when Castiel's mouth closes around the head of his cock. It jostles Castiel, who presses his hand firmly on Sam's thigh. He's bend over awkwardly to do this; two men spread out in the backseat of the Impala is a hard fit, even if the space is more generous than other cars. Castiel wouldn't fit on his knees in front of Sam with how far the front seat bench is pushed back to accommodate Dean and Sam. 

Sam can't piss. It's too weird, a mouth on him waiting to  _get urine._  It's surely perverted in one of the worst ways, and Sam feels like he's wrongly using his friend. Before he can push Castiel off of him, a hand places itself on the skin protecting his bladder. The hand presses down,  _hard,_ and in both surprise and natural response, Sam starts to release. Castiel swallows it down, easing his hand away when Sam makes no move to stop things.

It's definitely weird, Sam thinks. He can't relieve himself without thought; Castiel isn't able to drink it as fast as he wants to release, so he's having to pace himself, force himself to only let out a bit at a time. It's something he's never done before. The urine that's on Sam's jeans from when he let his stream get too strong for Castiel is much warmer than Sam would have thought. He can't imagine how it feels in Castiel's mouth. However it is, Castiel doesn't seem to mind. At all. The amount he doesn't seem to care is unnerving. 

Castiel moves his head forward to take Sam deeper, swallow more piss at once. Sam fights the urge to buck up; this isn't a fucking blowjob, and it would probably cause Castiel to gag, getting urine all over the backseat. Swallowing, Sam flexes his fingers. He can't get hard while pissing in Castiel's mouth. He  _won't._ That's a whole addition of messed up to an already fucked situation. 

His stream gets too much pressure because he's not paying attention, and Castiel's fingers dig into his thigh. Nothing falls from his mouth this time while Sam gets himself back under control. Sam apologizes, promises he's almost empty. Dean snorts, the first noise he's made the whole time. He mutters something about Sam and racehorses. It brings heat to Sam's face, and his fists his hands. Castiel rubs circles on his thigh, and that just makes Sam feel worse that he's being the one comforted when Castiel is basically functioning as a toilet. 

When Sam finishes, Castiel tries to tuck him back into his pants. Sam doesn't let him. The rebuff visibly bothers Castiel, but he just asks if Sam feels better when he opens his mouth. His mouth draws all of Sam's attention, and Sam nods awkwardly. He doesn't trust himself to speak yet. Or maybe ever. How is he even supposed to thank Castiel for that? 

The rest of ride back to the nearest motel is spent in silence, Sam and Dean awkward with Castiel keeping his mouth shut.

-

Dean takes to trying to avoid him back at the bunker, knowing Sam wants to talk about it with him before he approaches Castiel. He first pulls away with a flimsy excuse of calling to check in with Charlie. Then he locks himself in his room. It takes Sam a day to get to him. 

His big brother gets trapped between the fridge and Sam. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do. There's no one else Sam could talk to about what happened.

"Dean. Please."

A shake of his head. "What'd'ya want me to say, Sam? It was weird, and I'd like to pretend it never happened. I don't understand why you did it." He squints. "Don't explain why."

"It was that or pissing in front of I don't know how many people, Dean!"

"No one would've been close enough to actually get a good luck at your junk, Sammy. Nobody would've labeled you a predator; you gotta go, you gotta go. You saw there were other people doing it after awhile."

"That's really not helpful."

"It's not my fault you're such a prude. Cas sure didn't get prude Sam treatment, though."

Sam flushes. "Thought you didn't wanna talk about it?"

"You gonna let me go and eat my leftovers in peace?"

"No."

"Then I guess we're talking about it. I hate you."

"You, too." Sam takes a moment to organize his thoughts. "Why do you think he offered?"

Dean scowls. "No idea. But that's Cas for you. Always gotta be outta the box."

"Mhm. How weird does it make me I took him up on the offer?"

"Is this what's got your panties in a bunch? You're worried about how freaky it makes you? Whatever, Sam. You didn't get piss on Baby, and Cas didn't care. It happened, we're gonna pretend it didn't, and if you want repeats I'm not gonna be there. But if that's what you're into, I guess."

"I never said I was into it, you asshole."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "But you're thinking on it awfully hard."

"Not everything has a sexual component, Dean."

"Uh huh. Nice mouth on your dick, still thinking about it days later."

"I was pissing in Cas's mouth. I think that's reasonable to be thinking about days later."

Dean shrugs at him. "I don't know what you want from me. I told you you weren't a freak like you wanted."

"I want to stop thinking about it."

"Good luck with that one, Sam. Go bug Cas about it. Since, you know, he actually was one of the participants. See how he put it out of his mind. Don't fucking pout at me."

"I'm not pouting."

"I have seen you since you've been in diapers. That is a Sammy pout if I've ever seen one. Do you need me to hold your hand and take you to Cas?"

"Fuck you."

Sam pushes away from Dean, who looks annoyed. Dean continues about making his dinner, transferring the tupperware in his hands into the microwave. Conversation over, Sam walks to Castiel's room. He might as well get it over with. 

Once he gets permission to open the door, Sam sees Castiel sprawled on his bed. Music is playing from his phone; it's some kind of mix between rap and pop. His feet are shoeless, and he's wearing mix-matched socks. Sam smiles softly as Castiel gestures him inside. He sits by Castiel's hip.

"How are you, Sam?"

Sam shrugs. "I wanna talk about something. About in the car."

"About me drinking your urine."

"Yeah, that. It's bothering me."

Castiel sits up immediately. "Is this why you've been avoiding me? Did I make you uncomfortable? I'm sorry, Sam."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable, Cas. I made myself uncomfortable. I used you," Sam swallows, "like you were a toilet."

"Because I offered. And if you're worried about being inconsiderate, you were very nice, holding yourself off for my limited drinking ability. You didn't buck up into my mouth when I stimulated you pleasurably on accident."

Sam chokes. "You noticed?"

An eyebrow raises. "Yes, Sam. I noticed. I don't know how you would think I wouldn't, considering."

"Uh, I was hopeful. I'm sorry."

"Why? There's nothing to apologize for." Castiel squints. "Do you want oral stimulation? Is that why you are apologizing?"

"Shit, Cas. Stop. I'm apologizing for the piss." 

"I wouldn't mind."

"Cas. Focus."

Castiel blinks, but he seems to let that train of conversation go. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable about it. It was my idea, and I consented to it. I just wanted to help you."

"Thanks, Cas."

"But you're still bothered by it. I suppose I can understand why."

Sam shrugs, bites his lip. "It didn't bother you? Not even a little?"

"No. If you asked me to do it again, I would. If Dean asked, I would for him as well."

"Cas..." Sam trails off, not sure how to continue.

"You don't need to say anything, Sam, if you have nothing to say."

He has more to say, but he'll take the out for now. Just until he can figure out how to turn his confusion into words. Jaw closed, Sam lies down and runs his fingers over Castiel's blanket. It's freshly washed to his surprise; the blanket is still warm. Castiel looks at him for a few moments before joining him. He turns to look at Sam, his eyes roaming over Sam's face. Sam swallows, awkward. 

The silence carries on. 

When Castiel eventually speaks, it's quiet. "Stay tonight?" 

It's become normal for Castiel to ask either him or Dean to stay with him. He gets nasty nightmares, the kind it's better to be woken from. Last night neither of them slept here, and the motel they stopped at from New York it was Dean in his bed. 

Sam touches his hand to Castiel. "Yeah, of course."

-

In the morning, Sam's bladder wakes him. He moans and curls tighter into his blanket; the blanket moves too easily. Sighing, Sam opens his eyes. Castiel isn't in bed. 

"Cas?"

A grunt sounds from the floor. He's doing stretches then. Sam closes his eyes and rearranges into a tighter burrow, the whole bed's worth of blankets under his command now. 

"Stealin' the blankets."

"Uh huh. You know I'm taking them back when I'm done."

"'Sleep by then." As if to punctuate his point, Sam yawns. 

Castiel lifts himself from the floor, purposefully cutting his routine short. "You don't look asleep to me, Sam."

He flops onto the bed, and he grabs two fistfuls of blanket. The tug draws a whine out of Sam. Castiel laughs before doing it again.

"You left. They're mine now. Leave me alone."

"It's my bed, and therefore my blankets. Let me back in." Castiel tugs another time, and Sam lets the blankets go. "You're such a blanket hog."

"They feel nice."

"Uh uh." Castiel spoons up behind Sam. "Go back to sleep. I'm sorry I woke you."

"Didn't wake me. Gotta piss."

"Then relieve yourself. I promise to let you back in the bed."

"Don't wanna. Wanna sleep."

"You're like a child when you wake up on your own."

"So Dean says, too. I don't care."

"Mhm. Get up. It's not good to hold it."

Sam shakes his head. "Sleep."

"It takes not even three minutes, Sam."

"You can't tell me what to do, Cas."

"No, I suppose I can't." He pauses, considering his next sentence. "I know it makes you uncomfortable, but I could..."

Castiel lets the sentence dangle. The offer completely wakes Sam up, playful sleepiness obliterated. He tugs himself out of Castiel's hold.

"Cas. I don't...No."

"Alright. I won't bring it up again. You just didn't want to get out of bed."

"Cas, offering to drink piss isn't normal."

"I just want to help."

Sam lets out a breath. "Do...do you like doing it? Is that why you offered again?"

"I didn't have an opinion before the first time. But yes, I liked it."

"Like, you get off on it like?"

"No, Sam. I just like being helpful. A few days ago I helped you. Today would have been letting you stay where you wanted."

"I don't know how to respond to that, Cas. That's not normal, either."

"Our lives are anything but normal, from my understanding. I don't know why my abnormality bothers you so much."

Sam fidgets. He actually looks at Castiel. His friend is concerned, annoyed, and his hair is curling ridiculously on the top of his head. It makes the expressions on his face almost comical, but Sam ignores that. 

"I don't know why, Cas. I should work on it."

Castiel gives him a grateful smile. Sam swallows, wonders if he should ask. "Could you explain what you mean by you like being helpful? Your...level of wanting to is kind of high."

"I wish to be useful. I want to do things. I don't like being idle."

"Hobbies, Cas. We can try things and see if you pick something up."

Castiel stiffens slightly. "I have hobbies, Sam. My life does not revolve around either you and your brother or self pity at my humanity."

"That's not what I meant."

A frustrated noise. "I don't know how to explain what I want."

"Uh. Maybe we can throw things out, figure this out."

"Alright."

Sam waits for Castiel to say something, but he seems to be waiting for Sam to initiate things. With a twitch of his fingers towards Castiel, Sam starts.

"You like being helpful. Drinking piss when it's not feasible or just annoying to go falls under that?"

"Yes."

"Uh, hunts. Does hunting with us give you helpful fulfillment or whatever?"

Castiel ponders the question. His face scrunches up. "No. If I had to say, it feels like a job. Like when I would battle enemies in Heaven."

"Okay." Sam reaches for something else to ask. "If I told you to make me breakfast, would that annoy you? Or would that be making you feel helpful? Does being helpful make you feel good?"

"I guess it makes me feel good. I would assume so because I want to. As for breakfast, I would make it for you. Today it wouldn't annoy me."

"When would it annoy you?"

"When you're being lazy to be lazy. Like I'm just a convenient means for your food."

Sam lets that sink in, and he pushes away the guilt at all the times he and Dean both have called on Castiel when he was juiced up just because he'd be a faster means to ending a hunt or they didn't want to look for ancient lore. The two of them have definitely taken Castiel for granted many a time. He wets his lips. "I'm sorry for all the times I've made you feel like that. I mean, not because of food. But uh, for just being a tool. Treating you like a tool."

"Sam, I'm not looking for apologies. I've treated you like a means to an end as well."

"Two peas in a pod, huh?"

Castiel huffs, amused. "Indeed."

Sam shifts closer on the bed to Castiel. He pulls the shorter man closer to him, letting their foreheads touch. His arm rests over Castiel's middle, and Castiel closes his eyes. He loves when he gets physical affection. It's almost like he craves it, but Sam tries not to think on why that is. Dean, he knows, full out refuses to acknowledge he's picked up on it, but he constantly touches Castiel. It's not subtle, and Sam's definitely noticed. 

Their conversation goes on pause, the two of them content to lie together in silence. Sam falls back asleep, Castiel's fingers running up and down his arm. 

-

The second time Sam wakes up, his bladder is too irritating to ignore. He rolls out of the mound of blankets, and he stumbles into the bathroom. When he turns on the light, he groans; he never remembers that Castiel's bathroom bulbs are super bright. Castiel should change them, but he won't. A waste, he says, if they don't burn out first. Sam grumbles complaints as he pisses. 

He washes his hands, then his face. Sam decides to track Dean down for breakfast. It's been a while since he's had pancakes, and Dean makes them better than he can. He can make dinner tonight in return. 

When Sam finds Dean, his older brother is in the library with Castiel. The former angel is smiling into his phone like a giddy teenager, a slight flush on his cheeks. Dean is sitting across from him, bent into a book. He's taking notes, and his phone is next to his notebook. Sam decides to sit by Castiel.

"What're you looking at, Cas?"

Castiel turns to look at him, smile still bright. "Dean sent me a link to guinea pig videos."

He thrusts his phone into Sam's face, and there's a video playing of a guinea pig eating. Sam laughs at Castiel's enthusiasm before pushing the phone back towards him. 

"It's cute."

Sam gets a nod, Castiel refocusing on his phone immediately after. Dean's pen scribbles away. His page is almost full. Sam decides to wait until his brother comes up for air to ask for breakfast. He moves his chair closer to Castiel to watch guinea pigs as well. There's nothing else to do that isn't sorting lore in the library; Sam's laptop is in his room, and his phone in Castiel's still. Dean would probably not appreciate it if Sam took his.

-

Dean finishes looking through his book about an hour later. He drops his pen and lifts his arms to stretch, back popping. A happy sigh escapes his lips right after. He gives Sam a small flash of a smile.

"So did you just come here to cuddle up to Cas or was there something you wanted?"

"Mostly I came to bug you for breakfast."

"You can make your own damn breakfast, Sam."

"Your pancakes are better than mine. Right, Cas?"

"Please don't bring me into this," Castiel says without looking up from his phone. "I will not participate."

Dean smirks at Sam. "There goes your backup, Sammy."

"Come on, Dean. I'll make us dinner."

"Uh huh. You learned how to make pancakes from me. Yours can't be that different."

"They are." Sam makes a face. "Don't make me say please."

"Wasn't going to until you said it."

"Sometimes I really hate you."

"That doesn't sound like you want me to make you pancakes. Cas, you want some?"

"Staying out of this, remember?"

Dean softly kicks him under the table. "You're no fun. And I'm still not hearing a please."

"Please, Dean." In an exaggerated voice, "I'd love some pancakes."

Dean laughs before hauling himself up. "Was that so bad? I won't even make you re-say it in your normal voice."

"You're so generous."

"I know. Best big brother ever, huh?"

Sam rolls his eyes as he follows Dean to the kitchen, Castiel trailing behind him. Dean opens the fridge to pull the milk out as Castiel seats himself on the counter. If he's not planted somewhere, he hovers too close to Dean. It caused a spill once, Dean turning and hitting him. The Incident, capitals curtesy of Dean, had almost banished Castiel from the kitchen when Dean's cooking.  

They're mostly silent as Dean cooks, the sounds of his utensils the only real noise in the kitchen. When Dean flips the first few pancakes onto a plate and places them on the counter, Castiel smiles at him. Dean rolls his eyes, making sure to run his fingers along Castiel's thigh before turning back to cook more; between the three of them, they eat a lot of pancakes. Dean has to buy new pancake stuff after one breakfast including them.

The second batch of pancakes is mostly eaten by Dean and Castiel. Sam nibbles at his most recent pancake, simply watching as Castiel tries not to get syrup all over his face and Dean tears his into bite size pieces. Domestic mornings like this are getting more common, and Sam loves it. Peacefully together and all getting along is nice. Sam wishes their lives had allowed them this sooner. They still hunt, but there aren't nearly as many cases to take.

Dean puts Sam on dish duty. Castiel is eating the last pancake, syrup drowning the thing. While Sam washes the bowl the batter was mixed in, he hears Dean's voice softly speaking to Castiel. He's talking too quiet for Sam to hear, and Sam shrugs it off. Dean and Castiel can have their secrets, though it's annoying for them to talk about it with him there. The bowl gets put onto their drying rack, and Sam moves onto the silverware and plates. Castiel's voice joins Dean's. A feeling of getting watched prickles at Sam's spine, and he turns around ready to scowl. He finds Castiel smiling at him and Dean flustered. 

"What're you two whispering about?"

Castiel looks to Dean before answering. Dean frantically shakes his head. 

"I can't share that with you. It's nothing bad."

"Uh huh. Am I gonna find out whatever it is you're apparently plotting?"

Castiel hesitates. "I believe so."

Dean chokes. Castiel sends a sharp look his way before grabbing his hand, which he rubs comforting circles on with his thumb. They have a silent conversation that Sam can only guess what's being said. Dean's body loses some of it's tension, but he still doesn't look as relaxed as before Sam turned around. Castiel's mouth forms a soft, almost encouraging smile. Dean turns away from him before pushing towards the sink and shoving Sam out of the way. 

Sam blinks, but Dean's in shutdown mode and Castiel said he won't tell. With a sigh, Sam walks of the kitchen. Today was shaping up to be a good day.

-

A beer is plopped down by his book, Dean's hand wrapped around it. It's a bit after three pm. Gently, Sam places a receipt to his page before closing the cover. His brother takes it for the invitation that it is, and he sits on Sam's bed. He clears his throat.

"Sam."

Silence follows. 

"Yes?"

Dean shakes his head, morose. "Jesus. I shouldn't have agreed to this. I can't do it. Sam, I'm sor–"

"You don't get to say that to me and leave. Tell me."

"This was all Cas's idea, okay?"

"...okay?"

"Fuck. Um, earlier, in the kitchen? Yeah, Cas was talking about your ass."

Sam scrunches up his face in thought. That doesn't even make sense. "You were talking first."

"Uh, yeah."

"You're gonna have to spell it out for me, Dean."

Dean goes completely rigid. He doesn't speak, lets the silence hang in the air. His fingers twitch around his own bottle. Sam waits.

Sam waits for almost half an hour, if he had to guess. Dean's body is trembling from how tightly he's holding himself. When he speaks again, it sounds like it hurts.

"I maybe mentioned those are my favorite pants of yours."

"You have a favorite pair of pants for me to be in? Are you kidding me?"

Dean tightly shakes his head. "Not kidding."

"Uh."

"Please connect the dots from that. I know you're smart enough, Sam."

Sam closes his eyes. He's pieced it together, but he doesn't believe it. "You find me attractive. Cas knows, and you two apparently gossip about my ass."

"Yeah," Dean croaks. "I find you attractive."

"Oh." Sam shakes his head.

"Sam, I'm sorry."

"How long?"

"Since I took you from Stanford. So mad when Jess turned on the light. Wanted to fucking have you so bad."

"And Cas?"

"He's known since...I don't even know when he clued in. Don't remember when us talking turned into a thing."

"So in the kitchen?"

"I'm not gonna repeat what he said, Christ. You don't wanna hear that."

"Dean."

Dean takes a swig of his beer, stalling. He works his mouth a bit. "We were talking about your ass. My face was on fire. Put two and two together..."

"Cas said something about bending me over?"

Dean nods.

"...did you teach Cas how to talk dirty? That really doesn't seem worthy of getting that flustered over."

"Dude, you were all 'oh my god' two seconds ago about this, and now it's not fucking dirty enough for you?" 

"I'm sorry; how am I supposed to respond to the fact that you want to _date_ me? And, uh, just bending me over is tame. Super tame."

"Would you rather have had Cas whisper that I push you to your hands and knees? Grab your stupid hair and go for it?"

Sam feels his face get a bit warmer. "Definitely more fluster worthy, I guess. I'd hope Cas would've got you lube."

"I'm hurt that you'd think I wouldn't prep you."

"No objections to Cas in the picture, though?"

Dean snorts. "I've been talking with Cas about this forever. At this point, I think he'd be tragically offended if I didn't imagine him in the picture sometimes."

"Bet it'd make his sleeping easier, both of us there."

"Are you jumping from 'oh my god' to 'let me logic my way into this'?"

Sam shrugs, pulls the label on his beer. He swirls the liquid a bit. 

"Please tell me you aren't. Let this be like the piss and forget it ever happened."

" _You_  are the only one forgetting about the piss."

"...is Cas still drinking your piss?"

"No. But we're...talking about why he thought that was a good idea."

Dean arches an eyebrow. "And?"

"I dunno." Sam shrugs. "He likes to be useful; it makes him feel good. I fell asleep before we could discuss it anymore." Dean worries his lip, and Sam tries to pull Dean from his thoughts. "What are you thinking?"

"Let me talk to Cas about it. I'll tell you if I'm right or not."

"Alright. So. Back to you."

"Can we not?"

"No. You wanna date me."

"It's not like it's a fucking new thing, damn. Forget about it; nothing has to change."

"Dean."

He scowls. "Don't 'Dean' me. It's whatever. Can we drop it?"

"Why?"

"Don't be fucking obtuse. You know why–"

"Not that. Why...do you want to date me? Since Stanford? You couldn't even stand me for like half of the time since then."

Dean's hand stops messing with his beer. "Sam. I swear to God you irritate the shit out of me, and you make some of the absolute worst decisions on Earth, but don't you think for a second that it's incomprehensible that someone would like you like I do."

"Can't even fucking tell me you love me?"

"Sam. I'm being serious."

Sam shrugs. 

" _Sammy."_

 _"_ Forget I asked, okay?"

Sam startles as Dean stands up, determined. He strides over to where Sam's sitting at his desk, and he only hesitates a moment before cupping Sam's face. He looks sad.

"Sam, you're the world, okay? Don't date or have sex like you've been doing, whatever, but don't stay single because you think you're shit. God, Sam. How?"

Sam shakes his head, but Dean doesn't let him go. He deposits his bottle before bringing his other hand up. His thumbs trace little circles on Sam's cheeks. Sam shakes his head again, softer this time. Dean doesn't stop him, just adjusts his arms. Eventually, Sam's hands come to join Dean's. The fingers curl tightly into his palms while Sam just breathes. 

When Sam's hands loose some of their slack and slide down into his lap, Dean trails his up towards Sam's hair. He buries his fingers in the locks at the back of his brother's neck, and he pulls Sam's head a bit forward. The new position allows him to rest his chin on Sam's head. Sam softly lets out a sigh, and Dean curls his fingers. 

"I got you, Sam. You're okay."

Sam sucks in a breath. 

"Don't even say anything."

"You don't even know what I was gonna say."

"A self-deprecating joke, Sam. Known you forever, remember?"

Sam tangles his fingers into Dean's shirt. "I wasn't." He pulls on Dean's shirt, making his brother shift closer. "Touching you this much is weird. Neither of us is dying or miraculously not dead."

"Touch you all the fucking time. What are you talking about?"

"Not like this."

"Bit close for brothers like this, yeah."

Sam winces. "I'm sorry."

"Ain't your fault I'm an idiot."

"You aren't an idiot, Dean."

"Sure. Because smart boys grow up wanting to fuck their baby brothers."

"Not a baby. You're only four years older."

"Still. Shit." His nails scrape against Sam's neck. "You aren't understanding how messed up this is."

"Not gonna lie, it's...unexpected. Weird. We went through that earlier. 'Oh my god,' remember?"

Dean huffs. "Quick adjust, there, Sammy."

"Yep."

"Yep?"

Sam butts his head against Dean's chin. "You heard me. And then we agreed I was 'logic-ing my way into it.' Letting you touch me is definitely a plus mark, there."

"Sam. It's nice and all that you're being accepting, but please don't."

"Not trying to make light of it, Dean. I just...I want you to be happy."

"I am."

"And when I ask Cas to marry me and run away because you're being chicken shit?"

Dean snorts. "Like that'd even happen. Cas, choose one of us over the other? Maybe a few years ago. Now he'd fucking combust."

"Okay, yeah. Probably."

"...Do you like Cas like that?"

"You're just proving my point that you won't be happy."

"Am fucking not being jealous. Just want to know."

Sam shrugs. "I haven't thought about it seriously. He seems pretty happy the way things are."

"So? Cas isn't here, man. You can actually give me an answer. 'He seems pretty happy the way things are.' What kind of bullshit are you trying to sell me?"

"Because you've been _so_ forthcoming with me. And Cas is just Cas. I dunno. Through everything, I didn't really stop and think _wow,_ _I should ask Cas out,_ and then it was just a thing that the three of us would be spending our lives together. The Cas touching just happened, you know. You do it, too. I've never thought too deeply about it." Sam flexes his fingers. "But you like Cas, yeah?" 

"Yeah."

"Does he know?"

Sam feels Dean shake his head. "Just knows I like you. Should probably keep it that way."

"Why? I'm sorry to say, but for Cas it's probably you or me for him. He's not exactly the most social, especially since a lot of the angels want nothing to do with him now. And before you say something about being stuck with your ass, he's already made that decision."

"You make it sound so decided. Cas could go out and get someone if he wanted."

"Sure. He'll bring someone back, and they'll totally be okay with Cas lying in your bed naked and him offering to suck me off."

" _When_ the fuck did that happen?"

"Uh, when we were talking about the piss thing."

"Oh my god, Sam. And you think Cas is completely happy the way things are? Shit. I should've realized Cas was into you with the way he goes along with what I say."

"That probably should've been a sign, Dean."

"Shut the fuck up."

"We should talk to him."

Dean pulls Sam's hair. "Or we could not."

"You're very against everything, Dean. You like me, but you don't want me to date you. We establish we both like Cas to a dateable degree, but no, we can't do that either."

"You could talk to Cas."

"Or we could. Together."

Dean takes a deep breath. "Cas is gonna get worse about boundaries."

"Not like we've been very good about those since settling here. If you think about it, it's like we've been dating him already anyway. Married him, even."

"Cas is going to get worse at boundaries. Of all kinds."

Sam’s quick to piece together his brother’s hesitance. "...you don't wanna date Cas with me because you know Cas knows that you like me. You're afraid that Cas'll push it. Just fucking let me date you, then. Boundaries issue solved."

"You're my brother."

"Yes, obviously. If that honestly still bothered you, you'd have decked me or something by now. Cas would definitely be sporting a shiner or two. It's not really a problem for me."

"You said it was weird." Dean sounds wrecked.

"Weird, not a problem. Let's just try it. Let me make you happy."

"Don't want you in something just for that, Sam."

"Like I wouldn't make you work for it."

"Gonna make me work for it? You dog."

Sam ignores the innuendo. "So is that a yes?"

"It's a stop asking. We have to talk to Cas."

"Cas has nothing to do with us."

"Just let me adjust to you being willing, okay? I'd resigned myself to never having you."

"Alright, Dean. I'll drop it. For now."

"That's all I'm asking."

-

Castiel groans as Dean and Sam drop onto his bed with him. The force of the brothers hitting the bed jostles him, and his phone bounces away from where it was resting by his head. 

"Sam asks to come into my room when he's by himself. Why does common curtesy disappear as soon as you enter the picture, Dean?"

"Because I'm mean and nasty." 

Castiel halfheartedly swipes at him. Dean laughs, wiggling his way into lying down. Sam, on Castiel's other side, does the same. Neither of them curl up to the former angel.

"So Sam's an ass," says Dean.

"Are you really gonna pin this on me as your opening? Cas, Dean pinned you earlier when we talked."

Castiel turns his head to Sam. "Did Dean finally tell you he loves you?"

"Cas, I swear to God, one day I'm gonna strangle you."

Sam cuts his brother off. "Yeah. He did."

"Then he can pin it on me. I told him to."

"More like you gave me the guilt trip of the ages."

Castiel smiles at Dean. "And Sam didn't disown you. I believe I 'told you so.'"

"Guilt trip, huh?" asks Sam.

"For this morning. You left upset."

Sam shrugs, and Dean barrels ahead. "Not what we came to talk about, though."

"No? Do I at least get to know the conclusion to your discussion?"

"We'll try it out."

"I believe I said 'let me adjust,' Sam."

"Uh huh. And then you're gonna take me on a date."

"We didn't agree to that."

"No, but you're going to."

"You're even more annoying as a potential boyfriend than a little brother."

Castiel makes an irritated noise. "As exciting as your quarreling is, you didn't have to come do it in my bed."

Dean shuts his mouth while Sam's expression turns sheepish. Castiel shifts between them. 

"Why's Sam an ass?"

"I suggested that we ask you out."

Castiel licks his lips, eyes flicking between the brothers. "And what was the final verdict to that suggestion?"

"We're here, aren't we?"

"I'd like that."

"Yeah?"

Castiel grabs each of them and attempts to pull them to him. Sam scoots closer, and Dean wraps an arm around Castiel's waist. The former angel fits his head under Sam's chin. 

"Yes."

"You're gonna be a hundred times more clingy now, aren't you?" asks Dean.

He gets a nod and a hand covering his. Dean spoons up tighter, and the three of them rearrange themselves so Castiel's being touched almost everywhere. Castiel sighs when they stop moving, making Sam laugh. Dean flicks his brother before they all settle. 

"So you're doing this with both of us, right?" Dean swallows. "Not just Sammy with me on the side?"

Castiel's hair tickles Dean's face as he answers. "I've always loved you two. Since I started rebelling. I didn't understand it then, but I did. Of course I want you as well."

"That's the sappiest shit I've ever heard, Cas."

Sam grunts as Castiel accidentally hits him as he turns to give Dean a sharp look. "And yet, it is no less true."

"So why didn't you, you know, say anything? I'd've expected you to. We've been talking about sexing Sam up for ages."

"You were in love with Sam and hiding it. You were the model I based many of my...emotional expressions on."

Sam snorts. "That was such a horrible idea."

"Yes, I have learned."

"I'm right here, you asses."

"We know, Dean." Castiel leans his face towards Dean's, but he pulls back, hesitant. "Can I kiss you now?"

"After you've been insulting me? Better make it good, buddy."

"I wasn't meaning on your lips, but alright."

Sam shifts his hips back a bit to give Castiel space to roll over to face Dean completely. He places a hand on the former angel's hip, and Dean cups Castiel's jaw. Castiel goes for it. He crashes his lips to Dean's, hand gripping the hunter's shirt tight. Sam pulls Castiel's back by the hair when he sees Dean trying to pull away.

"Buddy. Relax," says Dean.

"Meg enjoyed kisses rough."

"I'm not Meg. And she probably just liked that you kiss with the eagerness of a total virgin. You're way more 'I don't know what I'm doing' than actually rough."

"Why would she have enjoyed that my kissing is apparently bad?"

Dean flicks his eyes to Sam, who's looking way too amused. "It's hot for some people, the thought of corrupting the person they're with sexually."

"Oh."

Sam rubs the hand on the former angel's hip, slipping it under Castiel's shirt to touch his skin. Castiel softly sighs in response. Dean shifts his hand closer to Castiel's chin while Sam eases his grip on Castiel's hair.

"Kiss me again, Cas."

This time, Castiel is much more hesitant when he presses his lips to Dean's; there is next to no pressure. Dean pushes himself closer, and he tilts Castiel's head. His lips move against Castiel's, who quickly tries to imitate and anticipate Dean's actions. Dean smiles before drawing Castiel's bottom lip into his mouth. 

Sam props himself up to see better, and his hand slides further up Castiel's shirt. The trailing of Sam's hand leaves Castiel whining. When Dean's thumb moves up to touch Castiel's lip, the former angel pulls away. His eyes stay closed, and his mouth is parted. Sam has to pull Castiel's hair to see him gasp.

"Why do you keep pulling me?"

"Because I like it. Do you want me to stop?"

Castiel shakes his head. Sam kisses his shoulder.

"Then I won't."

-

Around seven o'clock, Dean pulls away, his hands leaving Castiel's waist. The loss gets him an irritated glare. They'd all stopped making out a while ago, and Dean had retrieved Sam's laptop so they could watch movies. Castiel had insistently pulled Dean right back into the cuddle pile the second he made it back to the bed. Dean'd been stuck since. Sam was as well. Castiel's grip on them both was rock solid.

"Food. None of us have eaten since breakfast."

Sam sits up, pulling his arms above his head to stretch. "What am I making?"

"Grilled cheese?" He looks at Castiel as he says it.

Castiel shrugs. "I don't think you've fed me that yet."

"Fed you, huh?" Dean wiggles his eyebrows. "You want that?"

"I'm not following."

Sam rolls his eyes as he gets up. He hits Dean with his elbow. "He means actually feeding you. Like you directly taking food into your mouth from his fingers."

"I think I'm alright feeding myself, thank you."

"Your loss, Cas." With that, Dean hauls Castiel out of his bed. "Up you go."

"I'm also capable of getting myself out of bed."

"And miss out on your grumpy face? Nah."

"Dean, quit teasing Cas."

His brother waves his hand. Sam looks askance at Castiel, who shrugs. He's not overly bothered. Castiel takes point to the kitchen, the brothers following. Sam takes his position over the stove while Castiel hops back up onto the counter. Tonight, Dean joins him after getting out the bread, cheese, and butter for Sam.

The bread sizzles in the butter as Sam cooks. Castiel asks about how crunchy the sandwich is supposed to get, and Dean demands that Sam make a variety of sandwiches cooked at different intensities. Sam rolls his eyes, but does as he's told. Castiel might like his grilled cheese just cooked enough to have the cheese melted or almost burnt instead of how Sam and Dean like theirs: the bread medium level crunchy when it's bitten into. 

The first sandwich gets plopped onto a plate, and it gets pressed into Castiel's hands with an order of _let it cool._ It produces a grumble from the former angel; he's aware that he must let his food cool down. Dean huffs at that. Sam flips the remaining two bread slices together, and he adds three more. He then gets out ketchup from the fridge. That gets handed to Dean, who in turn drizzles a pool of the stuff onto the corner of Castiel's plate. 

"This is an alarming amount of ketchup, Dean."

Sam takes the second sandwich off of the frying pan, and while Dean accepts it he also answers. "You like ketchup. And we're gonna share. One less plate to scrub."

"You still have to clean your plate anyway."

"If you don't want my saliva in your ketchup just say so."

Castiel gives Dean a sharp look. "I just spent a good amount of time exchanging saliva with you directly; I think I can handle it in my ketchup. I was merely pointing out how your logic is flawed."

"Uh huh."

Sam rolls his eyes as he flips the remaining bread slices and places cheese on them. He watches as they cook, picking his sandwich up when it's how he likes it. Castiel nibbles at his where Dean devours. His gets dipped in ketchup on some bites as if it's an afterthought. The ketchup gets scooped up every bite on Castiel's; to Sam, it looks more like the sandwich is the bonus flavoring instead of the other way around. Sam turns from watching to remove the last, almost burnt sandwich. He then pokes his to see if it's cool. 

Dean's the first to finish, a surprise to none of them. Castiel is next, and he tries the last sandwich as Sam sticks the last of his into mouth. He scrunches his nose at it before placing the sandwich back down. 

"I don't think I enjoy things cooked to that capacity."

Sam shrugs. "Wouldn't've know until you tried it."

"I suppose."

Dean rubs a hand along Castiel's back. "Sammy's right. Don't be a grump. It couldn't have tasted that bad."

Castiel picks the sandwich back up and sticks it in Dean's face. Dean lifts an eyebrow, but he opens his mouth. When Castiel feeds the sandwich to him, Dean bites some off. It's  _different_ , but it's still grilled cheese. It's not too bad. He swallows.

"It's not that bad, Cas."

Castiel lets out an annoyed breath and drops the sandwich back onto it's plate. He slides off the counter to the sink with his and Dean's sandwich dishes. Sam nudges Dean into helping him out, and he presses himself along Castiel's back. The former angel's instant bleed into him is nice.

-

Things don’t really change much; Sam was right when he said it was like they were dating Castiel anyway. Kissing and everyone in the same bed every few nights is new, but the level of touches to Castiel is the same; the touches are just dispersed in more intimate places half the time now. Castiel loves hands on his jaw, his waist, the place where shoulder meets his neck. Holding his hand never fails to bring a tiny smile to his face.

Sam stretches, relieved when his back pops. A glance to his left shows him Castiel’s face smushed into his pillow. The man’s dead to the world still. Smiling, Sam tugs the blanket off of himself and gets out of bed. He pads to the bathroom, managing to not curse at the damn lights. 

Castiel is still asleep when Sam finishes his business, and he’s only curled up tighter when Sam gets in from his run. By the time Sam drags himself out of the shower, he knows that Dean will probably be awake. Today Castiel will probably not be joining them until around noon; if he’s not up by the time Sam’s ready for breakfast, he’s not getting up until he absolutely has to. Waking him up is alway a bad idea; he’s not a morning person unless he decides he is. That happens usually never.

Shaking out the last of the water in his hair, Sam makes his way to the kitchen. Dean, like expected, is already there reading. He’s got a hand around a coffee and his robe pulled open. Sam shakes his head at that; his brother has never learned a sense of decency, and it’s all the more apparent with how that’s rubbed off on Castiel.

A grunt is all Sam gets as a good morning, and he returns it as he pours himself his own mug of coffee. He grabs himself a bowl and tucks some cereal under his arm before sitting across from his brother. He purposefully places his legs so they touch Dean’s. It earns him a tightening of Dean’s fingers and a dusting of red across the tips of his ears. Sam thinks it’s adorable how it takes so little, but he’s also kind of sad that Dean thinks so much of it.

The two of them sit, eating and reading in silence. Dean’s absorbed in whatever book he’s dredged up, and Sam decides to check his email as he sticks the last bite of cereal into his mouth. There’s nothing, like usual, but it’s imperative to look; Charlie sometimes sends important lore she’s found. 

Dean turns his page. Sam glances up to see if he’s still as sucked in and turns back down to his phone. He could see if there’s anything resembling a case, but he doesn’t want to. They’ve all three been pretty lax since this thing started, and Sam won’t be the one to bring hunting back up. He gives it about another week before Dean does.

Sam gets up to rinse out his bowl and put the cereal away. When he finishes, he drops back across from his brother. Hesitantly, he covers one of Dean’s hands with his own. Dean gets a pinched expression for less than half a second before peeking up from his book. He takes note of his page, closes the book, and gives Sam his full attention.

“What’s up?”  


“Dude, relax. You’re not in the Inquisition.”  


Dean turns his hand and pinches the top of Sam’s. “Ha ha. You touching me’s weird.”

“Well, no time like the present to get used to it.”  


That gets a critical eye. “Uh huh.”

“Not like that, Dean.” Jesus is his brother’s mind forever in the gutter.   


“I think naked touching would do wonders, Sammy.”  


“Maybe if you could actually deal with me holding your hand without freaking out.”  


“I did not!”  


Sam shrugs; Dean didn’t freak out, true, but he’s clearly not completely comfortable with Sam willingly touching him outside of their old boundaries. Sam decides to change topics before Dean gets defensive. “So, have you had that talk with Cas yet? It’s been a few days.”

“Have you and Cas continued your stupid piss talk?”  


“No. I didn’t know that was a condition for you to see if whatever theory you thought up was true or not.”  


“It’s not. I’m just saying. It’s not like we’ve really had time, you know? We’ve been kinda all together.”  


Sam shrugs. “We could just do them both together.”  


“I’d rather not hear about more piss, thanks.” Dean makes a face.

“Cas said he’d drink yours, too. If you wanted him to.”  


Dean looks scandalized. “Tell him I said _fuck no._ And that I’ll kick his ass if he brings it up.”

“Right.” Sam rolls his eyes. Then he focuses on Dean. “So what is your theory on Cas, anyway?”  


“I think it’s better to not tell you in case Cas takes it badly.”  


“Dude, this is _Cas_. Unless you’re telling him he’s messed up or something, he’s not gonna care. What is it?”  


Dean tries to pull his hand away from Sam, but Sam grips tight. It gets him a glare that he ignores. Dean uses his free hand to run through his hair. He swallows.

“I think he might be kinda kinky.” Sam opens his mouth, eyebrows knitted. “Shut _up_. Like he’s into the D and S of BDSM kinky.”  


“I have no clue what any of those letters actually mean, Dean. How do you jump from Cas to leather and whips?”  


“I’m not talking about whips and leather, Sammy. I’m talking about how he’s so into helping out.” He takes a breath. “The letters stand for Dominance and submission, and we’re never talking about how I know that.”  


“How do you expect me to not ask how you even know this? What type of porn are you watching _now?_ ”  


Before Sam can continue rattling off questions, Dean says, “I did it with Lisa. If you absolutely have to know.”

Sam quickly closes his mouth. Lisa as a topic is off limits, and the fact that Dean didn’t lie about how he knows is astonishing. Swallowing, Sam nods. He won’t ask anymore questions about Dean’s credibility on the subject. But he still has no clue what this thing even is. 

“What exactly does...dominance and submission,” Sam hesitates over the words, “entail? In relation to Cas?”  


Dean shrugs. “I can only guess without talking to him, you realize that, right?”

“In general, then.”  


“One person, the Dom, tells the other person, the sub, what to do and gives them rules to follow. They do it because the sub likes pleasing the Dom, and following commands is a way to do it. It’s not so much about bossing the sub around as the trust, you know? How many people would you let tell you what to do around the house? Besides me, before you give me a smartass answer.”  


Sam shakes his head. “No one.”

“Exactly. And you said Cas really liked helping us out, and he was scary into it. I think if we shifted his focus a bit, he’d be into this.”  


Sam gives his brother a skeptical look. “I’m not trying to offend you, but how is anyone...into that?”

“It feels good.” Dean shrugs. “I was the focus of Lisa’s world while we were doing it. I felt,” Dean ducks his head, and Sam can see a blush on his face, “cherished.”  


“Were you, uh, the dom?”  


Dean shakes his head. “No. But Lisa said she felt the same.”

“So this...doesn’t involved the other stuff like whips?”  


“It could, but it doesn’t have to. That depends on Cas. And you, I guess, if you want to be a part of it.”  


“Mmm. I don’t know if I’d be comfortable with that.”  


“Read a bit more on it. Not so you can participate, but so you know what we’d be doing?”  


Sam nods. “Sure. Are you going to have Cas read, if he wants to do this?”

“Obviously. That’s like the first thing you’re supposed to do.”  


Sam doesn’t ask if that’s a general BDSM thing or a rule left over from Lisa. “Obviously. Am I going to present for this conversation or not?”

“Nah. You're going to be there for the one after Cas reads, though.”  


Where Castiel decides if it’s actually something he wants, and Sam thinks they go over what he’s going to do. “Alright.”

“So that’s all settled.” Dean cracks a smile, and Sam hesitantly returns it. 

-

Castiel makes his way into the world of the living around 1 pm. He’s bed rumpled, hair sticking up everywhere and morning breath strong. Dean’s nose scrunches when Castiel kisses him, and Sam lets out a small laugh as he starts making more coffee. As much as he pretends otherwise, Dean hates body odors in a high maintenance way.

Sam hums as Castiel comes to lean onto him to wait for the coffee. Hands circle his waist, and morning breath softly blows onto his neck.

“Sleep good, Cas?”  


“Mm.”  


Castiel nuzzles against Sam’s neck before craning to check the coffee over his shoulder. Sam can feel the glare that’s given to the only half full pot, and he places a hand onto one of Castiel’s. It does nothing to ease the apparent injustice, and Dean huffs behind them as Castiel keeps his stiff posture.

“You’d think you’d be used to us not having it ready by now, Cas.”  


The glare gets shifted onto Dean. He flashes a big smile before bringing his long empty coffee mug to his lips. Castiel lets out a low growl at Dean’s antics and turns his head back to the pot. Sam shoots Dean an unimpressed look because _really?_  He could do without this dance every three or so days. His brother just winks at him.

When the coffee’s done brewing, Sam pours Castiel a mug and mixes in the ridiculous amount of sugar he likes – enough to where it doesn’t all dissolve and he can scoop up sugar when he finishes. It’s disgusting. Castiel pulls away from Sam and takes the coffee from him like it’s a gift from Jesus himself, like he does every time, and he melts at the first sip. His eyes close, and his head tilts back, and his lips curl into a tiny half smile when he pulls the mug away from his face. Sam watches Castiel seat himself across from Dean, shaking his head, before carting the coffee pot over to the table for his brother, if he wants it.

Dean pours himself another mug and keeps it black this time. Sam rolls his eyes at his almost allergic reaction to Castiel’s. He sits down next to his brother and presses his thigh against Dean’s. 

Dean presses back, just a bit.

-

Eventually, the three of them separate. Dean heads to his room to stream TV or read; Castiel leaves sit out in the sun like he does; Sam migrates to the library. 

Tucking stray hair behind his ear, Sam runs his fingers along the spine of a rather large encyclopedia of monsters. None of them have catalogued this row of books yet, the sheer mass of the individual envelopes and tomes a task Dean just groans at; the one volume on vampires they went through put the both of them to sleep, it was so full of stuff they already knew written in cramped font. Sam’s pretty sure this row is the beginning pieces of the Men of Letters’ notes before they typed everything up and stored those versions on the front most shelves.

He pulls out an envelop shoved between two books on Wendigos, and he plops into a chair by where he deposited his laptop. The cataloguing has to be done, even if at a snail’s pace. There always is a chance the Men of Letters knew something they don’t about the monsters they hunt. Sam settles into his chair and boots his laptop up. He undoes the string of the envelop, pulling out the old paper within before shuffling through it to see how long a read it is. It’s pretty long, and Sam groans. 

He starts reading.

-

A hand to his shoulder startles him awake. Turning, he sees Castiel frowning at him with a plate of sandwiches and carrots. Sam pushes his hair out of his face and gestures that he’s fine; Castiel minutely raises an eyebrow, but he sits down next to Sam.

“That boring?”  


“That _long._ It’s speculation about Wendigos and the differences between the more common Canadian and American versions, but it’s all really...”  


“Boring.”  


Sam sighs. “Yes.”

“Do you even know hunters in Canada?”  


A shake of the head. “It’s good to be prepared, though. The database won’t just be for us when we finish it.”

Castiel nods and his face does the thing where it doesn’t really move, but his expression is completely different; neither Dean or Sam have figured out he does it after all this time. But he looks determined now.

“Cas?”  


“I want to continue talking about the car incident.”  


Sam’s eyes dash away for a moment before landing back onto Castiel’s. His fingers twitch, just the slightest bit. Dean’s words about what he wants to talk with Castiel about ring around in his head. “Sure, Cas.”

A head tilt. “You’re more nervous this time than our last conversation.”

“Yeah.”  


Cas squints. “Why do I always have to ask the obvious followup question instead of you or Dean just answering it?”

“Sorry.” Sam shrugs. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”  


Castiel just stares at him, and Sam gives me a nervous show of teeth. 

“Right. Uh. I talked to Dean, and he said some stuff. He’s supposed to bring it up with you himself.”  


Castiel raises an eyebrow. “And whatever he said is affecting our conversation this much?”

“I don’t really know how to explain it. I don’t even get what he thinks he knows...about you and the piss thing.” Sam drums his hands against the table, once. “He also said to tell you ‘fuck no’ to you ever drinking his.”  


“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”  


Sam snorts.

“But what did Dean say? Don’t tell me to wait until he brings it up.”  


“I dunno, Cas. He said he thinks you’re a sub, and I haven’t looked up what that means besides Dean’s probably broad overview.”  


“Which was?”  


“Cas, he wants to talk about this with you, and I really think you shouldn’t get secondhand info from me.”  


Castiel does his equivalent to pouting, his mouth drown down and his eyes pinched the tiniest bit. “Fine. I’ll go talk to Dean, and then we’ll talk.”

“Cas–”  


But he doesn’t wait for Sam to grab his arm, and he walks out of the library determined. The thought to send Dean a heads up crosses Sam’s mind, but he ignores it. Dean’ll chew him out either way. He leans back in his chair and looks at the food Castiel brought him. He sighs. Castiel clearly planned for them to eat together. 

-

After typing up what he actually did read onto his laptop and polishing off the sandwiches and carrots, Sam tidies up the table and returns the envelope to where he took it off the shelf. He goes to the kitchen and washes the plate before getting a glass of water. 


End file.
